


59 Days Since Case One

by AnExhaustedArmadillo



Series: Case One [17]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, Torture, Violence, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21589975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnExhaustedArmadillo/pseuds/AnExhaustedArmadillo
Summary: Speirs copes with being held captive at Salvation.
Relationships: Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs
Series: Case One [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1438132
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	59 Days Since Case One

**Author's Note:**

> TW: pretty violent, you can skip this chapter if you want to and the rest of the story should still make a lot of sense

They were held separately, which Speirs supposed was smart. It sure as Hell pissed him off, though. He didn’t know where Lipton was or if he was okay. Scratch that, he did know, Lipton was definitely not okay. Neither of them were.

Speirs wasn’t bound, other than a chain going from his ankle to a bar on one of the walls. He was kept in a tiny, cramped room with no furniture or stray objects. In fact, the room was spotless in how empty it was. Speirs had scoured it when they’d first locked him up, looking for anything that might help him. There was nothing.

The room was also dark, with absolutely no light and no windows. He’d felt around, and there was a lightbulb on the ceiling, but no corresponding switch, so he assumed it was on the outside of the room. Speirs had no real way to tell time, but he guessed he’d been locked up for about two days. They hadn’t fed him, but they’d given him a trace amount of water. That was the only contact he’d had with his captors. He wondered how long they’d keep him for, before just killing him. He wondered if they’d killed Lipton.

Speirs idly wondered why they were alive at all. Surely it would be easier for Shelton to kill them, not to keep them captive. But from what Speirs could gather, Shelton wasn’t actually a rational person, and it was likely that the only reason he’d kept them alive was to torment them, which likely meant they wouldn’t be alive for long.

He didn’t know how long those thoughts ran through his mind before being interrupted. The door opened for a moment and a body was shoved in. He couldn’t make out who it was in the dark.

“Lipton?” Speirs asked hopefully, but he was answered with a soft growling. “Shit.”  
Ron threw a hard punch at the walker, right at where he believed its jaw to be. He made contact, bone on bone making a resounding _crunch_ into the empty room. He could hear more than see the walker stumble, and he fought on. His body made contact with the walker’s, whose decaying body was thin and lacked any of the control that came with Ron’s musculature. He grabbed its neck and wrestled it to the ground, so that Ron was straddling what felt vaguely like its chest. Grabbing ahold of the moaner’s slippery face as best he could, he slammed its head into the ground over and over again. Exertion washed over his muscles as the walker’s moans died down. He thought the walker was dead, but he continued to bang its head against the ground anyway.

Finally, when his arms couldn’t move anymore, he slid away from the walker, leaning his back against the wall farthest from the moaner. He stifled a shudder, and wondered if they were doing the same thing to Lipton. Then he shoved the thought out of his mind; worrying would do him no good. He sat against the wall, fists bloody and shaking, and he watched for any movement from the walker. Its body smelled rotten, and the stench pierced Ron’s nose with a fury.

***

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have, because when he woke up, the walker was gone. He couldn’t help the feeling of discomfort he had at the realization that the people holding him captive could enter his space whenever they wanted to and there was nothing he could do about it. Mostly though, it made him angry. Upon further inspection of his small room, he found that the walker’s body had been replaced with a small plate.

The plate held what was really a sorry excuse for food. It was minced up meat, and it smelled even more decayed than the walker had. Still, Speirs hadn’t eaten in days, and he was all too eager to wolf the meager meal down.

He paused when he started chewing on something that didn’t feel like meat. Slowly, and with a growing sense of horror, he pulled something out of his mouth. It was a fingernail. Suddenly, he didn’t feel like eating anymore.

***

Ron had known it was only a matter of time before he spoke more directly with his captors. Shelton, the leader of the community and the man who had imprisoned him, came one day to stand in the dark of Ron’s room.

“Changed your mind about joining our community?” He asked, and Ron didn’t respond. It was likely that now, if Ron and Carwood were to join the community, they would join as the enslaved populace, a completely unappealing prospect. Even if they were part of the ruling group, Ron refused to be complicit in something so horrible. After a long moment in which Ron still did not deign to speak to Shelton, the other man continued in his Louisiana drawl, sighing.

“Yeah, I thought as much. But, well, we can’t let you go, and, in all honesty, I’d rather not kill you or your partner. Two big, strong boys like yourselves shouldn’t be wasted like that. But, Ron, I need you to join our community of your own free will. I can’t just have you out and about, resisting us all you can. So, if you’re still not sure about joining, it seems we’ll need to move forward in our negotiations.” Ron stared at Shelton, who stared right back, the whites of his eyes a shocking contrast to the darkness of the room.

“I’m sure,” He said, voice low, and Shelton’s teeth shone as he smiled.

“I hoped you’d say something like that,” Shelton said, then opened the door to the room. “Jeremy!” He called, and suddenly a bright light filled the room when the ceiling bulb was turned on. Ron, who had become relatively unaccustomed to light, closed his eyes. When he opened them, someone else was in the room.

“Carwood?” He asked, even though it was clear that’s who it was. He hadn’t seen Carwood in so long that Ron’s voice sounded shaky, tender, even. He cursed the sign of weakness.

Ron drank in his friend’s appearance slowly. Lipton’s face looked more gaunt than when Ron had last seen him, and he certainly hadn’t put on weight. Ron was most distraught, however, by Lipton’s bound appearance. His wrists and ankles were tied, and he was gagged. Speirs was almost overcome by the urge to rush to his friend’s side.

Jeremy stepped into the room, gun raised and pointed at Speirs, effectively holding him in place.

“Last chance to change your mind,” Shelton said through a smile. Ron stared at Lipton, who shook his head as best he could, eyes wide.

“No,” Ron said resolutely, and Lipton’s eyes looked a little more relieved.

“Alright,” Shelton said simply, and he grabbed Lipton by the front of his shirt and punched him, hard.

“NO!” Ron yelled, and lunged forward, but was stopped by Jeremy’s gun. Helpless, he was forced to watch as Shelton assaulted Lipton.

Shelton kicked Carwood in the ribs, and Ron was able to hear his friend’s moan all too well. There was a line of blood dripping from Lipton’s jaw to his throat. The sound of flesh hitting flesh dominated the small room. Ron breathed heavily in anger and frustration.

Carwood was clearly in pain, his chest heaving as he tried to keep calm. Ron could only imagine the kind of pain he was in. Shelton grabbed Lipton by the hair and slammed his head into the wall, and Ron was reminded of his fight with the walker.

“You could stop this,” Shelton said, taking a step away from Lipton, who curled up on the ground, face flat on the floor. Carwood raised his eyes to meet Ron’s, telling him without words not to give in. He couldn’t help the pang of guilt in his heart, but he steeled his resolve.

“No,” He spat out through gritted teeth.

“Damn shame,” Shelton said, and pulled out a knife. “He has such a lovely face.” Before Ron could even register what was going to happen, Shelton stabbed Lipton’s face, dragging the blade across his cheek and leaving a deep cut drenched in blood in its wake.

He wasn’t done with the knife, however, stabbing it deeply into Lipton’s shoulder, who screamed around the gag, legs spazzing in pain. Tears of pain welled in his eyes, and Ron’s heart sank to his stomach. Shelton yanked the knife out, blood flowing steadily from the wound, though it looked like he’d missed any major arteries.

Shelton continued the assault with his fists, and Ron was growing more and more afraid of Lipton’s condition. Before, he had given some indication of pain, but now he wasn’t even conscious. Blood was dripping from his face, and bruises lined Lipton’s chest and neck, and Ron was sure his ribs were at least fractured, if not completely broken. Luckily, Shelton seemed to lose interest shortly after Lipton lost consciousness.

Jeremy stepped forward to drag Lipton’s body out of the room, and Speirs stared straight at Shelton, expression stony, though he was livid. Shelton hadn’t stopped smiling throughout the torture, and that continued to be true as he looked at Ron.

“If I were you,” He said. “I’d reconsider.” And with that he was gone, and the light in his room that had illuminated Lipton’s bloody appearance so well went out, leaving Speirs alone in the dark. He unclenched his fists, running his thumb over the crescents in his hand that were left by his fingernails. His choice was clear. Either they’d escape, or they’d die trying.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m so glad people are enjoying the story. It really makes me so happy to hear that.
> 
> Comments=validation and love
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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